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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250327">Wraith</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil'>victorianvirgil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>13 Days of Halloween (2020) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Job, Boxer AU, M/M, Prequel, bet you never thought you'd see them again huh, boo bitch!, great recession, i missed them tho &amp; my friend and i might start kick boxing so i was inspired, i will CONFIRM that they don't get together until nine years from now so, janus lowkey a fighting pimp, king shit, mac is trying to talk me into a third part but we'll see, the prinxiety age difference isn't GREAT but they are also not romantic interests here, v brassard is ro's realization that he's gay but v thinks ro is just a kid, virgil has already won a medal and is just doing this for kicks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:13:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,399</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27250327</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the months following his victory in Beijing, Virgil Brassard finds himself home again, back in the streets that made him the victor he is today. With life returning relatively back to normal, an unexpected piece of Virgil's life slides into place. Not that he knew it yet, though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>13 Days of Halloween (2020) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wraith</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Friday October 31, 2008 </em>
</p><p>In the midst of the Great Recession, Halloween night was as dark as ever. The waxing crescent offered little light, and parents kept their children close―one pair of lovers especially terrified that their twins’ Dark Knight and Joker costumes wouldn’t be reflective enough for cargoers to see their feverish forms. Still, ten-year-old Roman and Remus raced through their neighborhood, pushing their other half out of the way in favor of being the first to knock on the purple door of their penultimate stop.</p><p>Mirroring lopsided smiles awaited the house’s owner when she opened the door, only one wavering slightly as they chorused an enthusiastic, “Trick or treat!”</p><p>“Happy Halloween, boys!” she grinned, offering an orange bowl decorated with black bat. Inside were bite-sized butterfingers, mouthfuls of M&amp;M’s, and chocolate bars galore. The twin’s eyes widened, already tasting the sugar on their tongues. “Take two.”</p><p>They did, Joker-Remus saying a quick “Thank you!” before taking off down the steps and stumbling back towards his parents. Roman, however, cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. B um . . . is, uh, Virgil here?”</p><p>“Sorry, sweetie. I’ll tell him you said Happy Halloween, but he’s out right now.”</p><p>And out he was, possibly for the count.</p><p>Miles away and a story below, Virgil Brassard gasped for air, cheek scratched and bleeding from the unforgiving canvas beneath him. His head spun, and the clamorous crowd’s screaming did little to alleviate his pain.</p><p> “Kill him!” someone shouted, soon joined by a chorus of men all calling for death. Through the stars in his eyes, Virgil could just make out the way the corner of his adversary’s lips flickered up into a blood-thirsty smirk.</p><p><em> Some Halloween, </em> he thought, tongue between teeth, <em> should’ve just stayed home with Mom and handed out candy. </em></p><p>Aside from his racing thoughts, Virgil was still, biding his time. Playing possum in a way, or at the very least playing up his pretty unpleasant injuries. Blood crashed against the side of his mouth in waves and he knew that even as he spat most of it onto the ground, his teeth were stained when he snarled up at the man standing over him.</p><p>A raised foot, surely to stomp on Virgil’s fingers, and, with a flash, he was fifteen again, four inches shorter and eighty pounds lighter than his smallest opponent. The brawler’s teeth were filed like little daggers, and for a moment, the teen’s life flashed before his eyes, sure that the other would tear his throat out. <em> Dead, dead. I’m dead. </em></p><p>He wasn’t, and as he was thrust back into the present, the wraith’s smile was inhuman. Nothing short of absolutely terrifying.</p><p>Before the other could step on his hand and crush any chance of taking the night’s winnings, Virgil shifted his hips and bent his back leg, firing a powerful kick into the locked knee of his opponent’s plant foot.</p><p>A beastial scream of pure agony ripped itself from his throat as he collapsed, Virgil nimbly swinging himself up onto his feet. Steel gaze tarnished to a deadly pitch, and without hesitation, he dug his left heel into the ground, the other’s fingers beneath him.</p><p><em> You made it interesting already, </em> a voice seemed to purr in his ears, and when he looked up, Jay smirked in amusement. <em> Finish it now. </em></p><p>And so he did.</p><p>-</p><p>Janus paid him well―the promise of watching a gold-medalist boxer slug it out without rules drawing a wealthy, blood-thirsty crowd―and even blew him for a job well done, fingernails digging into his hips as Virgil arched into the touch.</p><p>“Fuck,” he breathed, sweat dripping down his temples and dampening his hair as the other swallowed him down. “Just like that.”</p><p>Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he was done, Janus placed his right hand on his own thigh, grunting a bit as he pulled himself to his feet. When he spoke, his voice was raspy and hoarse, and Virgil couldn’t help but smirk with what little energy he had left from the round in the ring and now in the bathroom. “Right, well, keep training and I’ll see you next week, Wraith.”</p><p>“See you then, Snake,” Virgil replied, pulling his shorts back on and grabbing his jacket from the tile floor beneath them. He left without another word, unchaining his bike and riding back to his house, making it back just before curfew.</p><p>“How’s my little Olympian?” Mrs. Brassard asked after Virgil entered the kitchen, slinging his bag off his shoulder and sighing in exhaustion. “Long night?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Virgil replied, wrapping an arm around his mother and leaning down slightly to kiss the top of her head. He wasn’t particularly tall by any means, but his mother was a tiny thing. Strong as hell, though.</p><p>“You’re all sweaty!” she laughed, pushing her son away and brushing her shoulder off. “Go shower, you heathen.”</p><p>“First I’m an Olympian, and now I’m a heathen?”</p><p>“Just because you won a gold medal this summer doesn’t mean you’re not a heathen, heathen.” Then, she tossed him a fun-size Hershey bar, which he immediately tore open and devoured in one bite. “Go shower.”</p><p>He did, and when he turned the faucet off and pulled back the curtain, a bruised and battered face bore back at him.</p><p>Virgil flinched, and his reflection copied his movements perfectly. “Shit.”</p><p>Wrapping a towel around his waist, he approached looking glass, left hand lifting to his cheek where a deep cut jutted across his cheek from his chin up to his ear. His skin was flushed but the star of the show, of course, was the darkening welt over his eye, Virgil only just realizing that he hadn’t even been able to keep it entirely open. The adrenaline from the fight, the blow job, and then the bike road home had kept him from noticing it, but when he pressed his fingertips against the tender skin, he clenched his jaw.</p><p>That motherfucker.</p><p>Mrs. Brassard had placed an ice pack on Virgil’s bedside table next to a water bottle and a few pills. He swallowed them down quickly, hoping that the sertraline, melatonin, and Benadryl would work their way through his system. This would hurt like a bitch in the morning, after all.</p><p>-</p><p>The next weekend was agony, and the bruising had reached its peak by the time Virgil stepped onto the obnoxiously-yellow school bus Monday morning, cursing whatever god above for making it rain.</p><p>The seats were full, all except for one, and Virgil sighed as he swung down besides the kid pressed up against the window, bag in his lap and the year's newest DS model in hand. He glanced up when the seat groaned beneath the added weight, and Roman swallowed hard. “Uh . . . hi.”</p><p>Virgil didn’t bother responding, gaze fixed ahead.</p><p>“Hey, Virgil, uh . . . I’m your neighbor and I just wanted to say that I watched you on T.V. this summer and thought you were pretty good.”</p><p>Quietly, he replied, “Thanks.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Roman quickly continued, “I don’t mean just <em> pretty good, </em>you’re the best in the world! Obviously, I mean.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t say that, there’s always someone better out there.”</p><p>“Not that I’ve seen.”</p><p>A small chuckle escaped from Virgil and he turned his head slightly, hair still covering most of his black and purple skin, “Keep looking, then.”</p><p>Dutifully, Roman’s eyes scanned the bus, and after clicking his tongue, he turned back to Virgil, “Uh . . . yeah, nothing.”</p><p>“Pretty low bar, kid. Not much competition between young, stoner middle schoolers and hung-over high schoolers.”</p><p>“Well, there’s me,” Roman shrugged, lowering his DS into his lap as he gave Virgil a grin. One of his teeth was missing, the rest as white and shiny as pearls. “But I’m going to be the best quarterback who ever lived.”</p><p>“That right?” Virgil asked, lips turning up slightly before he nodded in approval. “Well, out of all the idiots here, I think it’d be you.”</p><p>Before Roman could embarrass himself by screeching in delight, the bus game to a screeching halt. The high schoolers were always dropped off first, and without another word, Virgil pulled himself up and out of the seat. Little to his knowledge, Roman marveled up at him, cheeks red with pure happiness spreading across his features.</p><p>If only to prove Virgil right, he would become the best quarterback in the world. A champion.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey guys!</p><p>it's fr been twelve hours, ik, but gotta catch up! plus, a reward bc i submitted all of my college application stuff. ty for dealing with me during this time lol</p><p>anyway, hope you enjoyed this prequel to Champion</p><p>until next time,<br/>ronnie</p></blockquote></div></div>
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